I didn’t mean to be so cold. I didn’t want to be so hurt. I hadn’t always meant to be so cruel. But all of a sudden, it happened. All of it. I was distant, torn apart from the inside, tattered and torn.
I was once a good girl. But the fairy tales they don’t tell you about, are the times when all of the hurt inside of you wants OUT. It screamed at me, shook me, violated my brain. I became a prisoner, trapped inside of a glass box. Party girls don’t get hurt, can’t feel anything… I push it down, push it down. Every memory-piece of of hurt seeped out of my pores, and trickled onto everyone I knew. There was no escape.
1-2-3 drink. 1-2-3 drink. I had an eviction notice hanging outside of my door, and I dared not open it. Behind the lock was a hidden fortress of empty beer cans. dirty dishes. residue over surfaces. 1-2-3 drink. 1-2-3 drink. Help me! Help me! I would scream from inside of my glass box, as my body would devour the white powder and the tequila; as my fingers pressed the razor a little deeper, just a little bit deeper. My water heater had broken, so I stood in the cold shower as I puked up the wine and then sipped a little more. Vomit spread over the floors, over my body. I fell into bed, shivering from the fear, shaking from the cold, and waited for sleep to come.
There wasn’t anyone there to save me. from myself. No one to call out to. Even in my dreams, I ran away from my reflection. Sun is out, and I’m a mess. Gotta get out now, get away from this. Here comes the shame. I woke up, grabbed the keys to my new car (which was about to be picked up by the repo man) and sped down the freeway with the windows down. I guzzled on the beer between my legs, and hoped that someone would pull me over. Save me. SAVE ME. Someone, save me. Take me to jail, cuff these idle hands. Someone please fucking save me!
But no one came. The lights didn’t flash behind me.
So I kept on going, kept on pushing, kept on drinking, kept on dying. I’m holding on for dear life, won’t look down, won’t open my eyes. The sadness inside of me blackened my blood, and it spread to each one of my parts. I was empty, and yet so full. No one understood. Who can you tell the truth to, when the honesty doesn’t even make sense to yourself? Where can you run to, when it is yourself that you are running from? And so it is, every day, you walk because that is what you are supposed to do. You get dressed, you smile when you have to. No one asks questions. No one knows the war you are fighting. Help me, I’m holding on for dear life. But no one is there. No one knows. No one cares.
I was so fucking angry and broken and cursed that I treated most everyone around me like shit. I was ruthless. I was a liar. I was a thief. I was disconnected. I was at war, and I wanted everyone to suffer too. I didn’t mean to be so cold. I didn’t want to be so hurt. I hadn’t always meant to be so cruel. But all of a sudden, it happened. All of it. I was distant, torn apart from the inside, tattered and torn.
But, you just keep walking. And walking. And walking. And holding on for dear life. And you keep walking. And you keep holding on. And you keep drinking. And you keep holding on. And you keep walking. Until it’s not so hard. Until it’s still just as hard. Maybe it never ends, maybe it does. Is my life different now? Yes. Is it easier now, the war in my head? It is just different. I still fight my battles. I still walk in the mud. I guess the difference is that now I have someone to hold onto now. And I beg him, to never let me go. Because I am afraid that if that lifeline breaks, I will fall again. I am afraid. Yes, I am afraid of me. That never ends, that never gets better. Easier, maybe, but not in the way you think.
I don’t think I was ever meant to be. But I am, nonetheless.
Italicized words are lyrics from Sia’s “Chandelier”